


Nama-Mephisto

by Ladsalt



Category: Dystopia Rising (Live-Action Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Familial Abuse, Hearing Voices, Insomnia, Murder, Paranoia, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladsalt/pseuds/Ladsalt
Summary: Petro left the gravemind carrying the voice of a dear friend who didn't make it out with them. After going in again to try and find that friend and being confronted with a vison from their past the voice they once treasured is starting to disturb them.





	Nama-Mephisto

_ Why did you leave me there? Why did you leave me alone? Don’t you even care about me?....No...You’re just like everyone….. _

“It's late, please be quiet..”

The sun was high in the sky over the caravan Petro had caught a ride with. They were curled up in the bed of a truck between some boxes and sacks with their hat tilted over their face and their poncho wrapped tightly around them as they tried to catch a moment of sleep after going without it most nights this past week. The first few nights after their last trip to the gravemind had been spent waiting at the edge of the campments of whichever group they’d managed to get a ride with, pacing and smoking with shaky hands waiting for the sunlight so the others would wake up and they could keep traveling. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately they’d gone through all of their cigarettes very shortly. 

They wanted to drink, felt a desperate ache for the numbness and the sleep. But Petro had tried that too after the smokes had run out and it only made the voice in their head louder...more..worse.

Petro had, more or less decided for themselves that contrary to what they had originally though the voice they heard was not their friend by the time they’d reached Hell Dorado. It was their voice though, and it said things that...reminded them of things their friends would say. So it hadn’t bothered them, in fact, it was a great comfort ...even though it wasn’t them. It did, something, to soothe the fear that they’d never….that  _ they couldn’t make it back _ ….but they’d have much rather admitted to thinking it really was a voice from their friend in the grave they heard than confess to knowing it was not, and wanting to keep it anyway.

And it wouldn’t matter! They would get out. They would. And then Petro imagined the fracture would ease itself, secure in the knowledge that they were alive again. 

But, it hadn’t. They clutched at the letter, the neatly creased page after just a few days was crinkled like old leather and smudged and fingerprinted from being over handled. It had scarcely left Petro’s hand since they’d read it with the news that they were alive. It was telling the truth, they knew that, they  _ trusted  _ that. Why could they still hear it...

_ You don't care. You never cared. You just wanted to hurt me… You all just wanted to hurt me...i should have known... _

Petro pulled their cloak tighter around themselves over their ears like it might block the noise out. It didn’t used to say such awful things to them at all hours… That was new. It didn’t used to exacerbate the sick guilty feeling that made their stomach churn. But then they supposed, that feeling, although familiar, was new too. 

The Vision of their mom and Pillar the gravemind had given them, had planted that seed, and since then the voice had taken on this new tone.

_ “Did You even try to talk to him before you killed him?” Mom was asking, the look on her face was fearful and horrified like Petro had never seen it when she was alive, “Did you ever love your family? Did you ever love any of us?” _

_ They reached out to grab at her arms like she might run, bring someone, get them in trouble. Pillars body was dead behind them- how had that happened? When had that happened? Everything was moving so quickly- _

_ “I...I did! I do! I thought I did…. I, I don't know-” _

_ “How could you do this? He’s your brother! Why would you do this to us?” _

_ “What...?” How could she ask that? After everything- Petro felt a flash of anger and suddenly they were holding a knife to her throat, “ I...I don’t owe you an explanation...I did love you...and I...think ...I was wrong to?” _

_ Mom looks terrified and then she looks...she has an expression Petro almost can't identify because it looks so unfamiliar on her face. She’s pitying them, she looks sorry. _

_ “Will this make you feel better? If doing this will heal something in you, then do it… if you must....I know- I’m sorry, this is my fault. Please don’t take it out on your brother...” _

_ Petro hesitates, and they feel their grip on their knife loosen. _

_ Then her neck erupts like it's been cut again- they've cut it again. They didn't want to they hadn't meant- She was sorry this time and they’d done it anyway- and _

  
  


_ You don’t love me, you never loved anyone did you? I was right when I said you only liked people hurting when you were the one doing it... _

  
  


In the bed of the truck Petro swallows as nausea rises in their throat from the consuming guilt. They need to see them. They needed to know they were here, hold them and feel that they were real...and mom was right. They needed to try and help Pillar, they should at least try and talk to him. They should...and maybe then they’d feel better.


End file.
